


then i pretend he's mine to keep

by princessoftheworlds



Series: it's (not) all an act [11]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dating, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28818939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds
Summary: Jack and Ianto go on four elaborate dates and pine for each other. Ianto auditions for a secretive role.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: it's (not) all an act [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927099
Comments: 28
Kudos: 47





	then i pretend he's mine to keep

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delayyyyyyy but I was working away on this part as of an hour ago, so progress? Plus, it's the longest part to date! So yay!
> 
> Thanks to Remi for plot reasons and content. Thanks to Zoe for editing and title and Bel for further editing.
> 
> Reminder that next week is to build a home posting week! Also, sorry in advance for this fic.

“A picnic?” asks Jack in astonishment as they crest over the hill to overlook the expansive swell of verdant green. Not too far away, there is a red-and-white checkered blanket scattered with soft-looking pillows spread across the grass with a stereotypical brown wicker basket weighing down one end. Weaving around the grass are gravel paths down which joggers run and families wander with their children; in short, it’s a very public place. “In a park?”

When Ianto glances up at Jack, he finds that the other man is grinning widely, his beautiful eyes sparkling with joy.

“It was Gwen’s idea, actually,” he says stiffly, attempting to spare his treacherous heart its usual feeling of butterflies and warmth any time Jack smiles or laughs boisterously or jokes or even just says Ianto’s name in that low, flat American voice of his, all butchered and wrong but an endearing attempt. “She thought it sounded romantic.”

“It does sound romantic!” Jack insists, latching onto Ianto’s hand. Their fingers brush together, Jack’s skin soft, before Jack tugs him forward towards the picnic blanket.

They sit down, Ianto’s legs crossed as far away from the grass as possible; he doesn’t want his trousers to be stained and dirtied. Enthusiastically, Jack turns to dig through the basket and pulls out two delicate-stemmed glasses, a frosty bottle of champagne, an entire board of meats and cheeses - grapes, wedges of brie, figs, and the likes, several brown paper-wrapped sandwiches labelled with  _ turkey on rye  _ or  _ ham and swiss cheese,  _ and - finally - two small containers of tres leches. 

They both stare, gaping, at the large assortment of food now gathered on the picnic blanket. 

“...We could feed an army,” Ianto says slowly, his eyebrows to his hairline. His eyes are narrowed as he trails fingers over the curve of the champagne bottle. 

“I think they went a bit overboard,” Jack agrees. 

“ _ Just a bit. _ ”

“So,” begins Jack, “how has your week been?”

“We saw each other yesterday,” Ianto reminds him, and Jack huffs a quiet laugh.

“Indulge me.” Jack reaches out and toys with the zipper of Ianto’s jumper, and he blushes brightly, his entire body warming as Jack’s hand presses against his chest. Then his hand drifts upwards, his knuckles brushing Ianto’s jaw affectionately. He wants to press into Jack’s touch, almost cat-like.

Jack leans in closer, beaming at Ianto. 

For a moment, Ianto thinks Jack’s going to kiss him. He leans in closer, body tense with anticipation, heart beginning to beat out of his chest.

Then Jack brushes his thumb against Ianto’s cheekbone, Ianto practically melting now, and says, “Smile for the camera.”

The hair on the back of Ianto’s neck prickles, and he swivels his head slightly to glance over his shoulder, where a figure in completely dark clothing and reflective aviators is snapping shots of them with his long-lense camera. Ianto turns back, swallowing his groan.

“I know,” Jack says, nodding, his smile slightly tense.

“They never leave us alone,” Ianto murmurs through gritted teeth.

Shrugging, Jack’s smile dims slightly. “It is their job, to be fair. Plus, that’s the entire reason we’re keeping up this ruse, for the media attention. We  _ need  _ the paparazzi to find us.”

Now, Ianto’s smile dims slightly. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, you’re right.” Still, he didn’t need that reminder. Not at all. 

“Shall we dive in?” Jack gestures to the small mountain of food. 

They break into the sandwiches first as Ianto pops the cork off the champagne and pours them both glasses. The bubbles fizz across his tongue, the wine slightly sweet and not entirely to his taste. Evidently hungry, Jack polishes off his sandwich quite quickly before popping a grape into his mouth.

“Least it’s good food,” he remarks. “Gwen and Yvonne didn’t skimp on the catering.”

Setting his sandwich down, Ianto stacks a cracker high with folded bits of ham and brie before munching down on it. He washes everything down with more champagne. Eventually, he offers, “Yvonne said she’s been hearing rumors of a new potential role coming my way.”

“Oh?” Jack’s eyes are wide, his expression curious, his eyebrows quirked. “Do tell.”

Ianto shrugs. “I don’t actually know anymore. That’s all she told me. Some producers are interested in me for something.”

“Still!” Jack says. “That’s exciting.” He reaches for another sandwich, offering one to Ianto, who points to his abandoned sandwich lying next to his knee on the picnic blanket.

“Sure,” replies Ianto. “I’m not going to get my hopes up.”

“If my opinion counts,” Jack tells Ianto, “I think you’re brilliant, and I would cast you in any movie in a heartbeat.”

As his stupid, treacherous heart begins its usual butterflies, Ianto ducks his head, not catching a glimpse of how Jack’s smile is a tad bit strained.

* * *

For two well-publicized actors - thanks to Yvonne, Gwen, and their last date - at an open-air theater, Jack and Ianto are not noticed as much as Jack would have thought they would. They do get some strange looks - those Jack are familiar with, the bewildered glance when you believe that you recognize a stranger but cannot entirely place them or remember why. These looks are warranted, considering that Jack and Ianto are wearing sunglasses while seated underneath the shade of several large trees.

“Should we take these off?” Ianto murmurs to Jack as the actress playing Lady Macbeth launches into an impassioned monologue. “We do look really ridiculous.”

Jack shrugs. “Nah. It’s all part of the drama and intrigue.” Plus, he likes spending this time with Ianto, watching well-trained hopeful actors waltz or duel across an outdoor stage, surrounded by the verdant greenery and trees of nature, munching on salty chips and sweet fizzy drinks. (They insisted on bringing their own food this time.) He’s afraid that once the shades come off, they will be recognized more quickly, and the public and paparazzi will pour into his little bubble with Ianto, the one where he can pretend that this is a real date. (Which is despite the point considering that the paparazzi are  _ supposed  _ to find them.)

Because not even he can deny that to himself anymore, that he wishes this was a real date with Ianto. He’s still working away on processing the “wishing their relationship was real” bit.

He turns his attention back to the stage, focusing on the gorgeous, red-haired actor playing Macbeth. He pops another chip into his mouth and crunches on it softly, attempting to not draw another stern yet amusing stare from Ianto.

“You played Macbeth, right?” he asks eventually. 

Now, he gets that stare. “We’re here to watch a play,” Ianto insists, but he’s smiling nonetheless as he focuses on Jack. Seems he’s not too engrossed in the play either, which is a shame, considering that the actors are quite talented. Finally, Ianto sighs. “Yes, I did play Macbeth. On the West End.”

That’s right, Jack muses. He remembers Bill bringing it up when they were on her show many months ago.

“Was it your favorite role?” he asks Ianto. “Shakespearean at least? Because I know that you’ve also done Measure for Measure.”

Ianto wrinkles his nose. “Don’t bring up Measure for Measure. I adore Shakespeare, but I despise that play.” Jack snorts amusedly. “But yes, out of all the Shakespeare I’ve done, Macbeth was my favorite. There’s something so dark and thrilling about that play. So  _ human. _ ”

And as Ianto begins to ramble on about why he loves Macbeth so much, Jack watches his lovely eyes, how lively they become, that spark of light and interest there in the crystalline blue that he adores so much. He could listen to Ianto rant about anything, especially with that lilting Welsh accent but also because it’s Ianto Jones. Who means…  _ a lot  _ to him.

“Look at you,” Jack jokes. “So serious and sober as an actor, whereas I did a movie about a killer shark almost a decade ago that bombed  _ so badly  _ that I was afraid to show my face in public for  _ months. _ ”

“Oh, yes,” Ianto says awkwardly. “That movie.”

Jack swallows back a groan. “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?” Ianto’s slow nod only confirms his suspicion, and Jack sighs. “Before you judge me, just know that I really needed the money, and that was before Gwen signed on to be my agent. She doesn’t let me live that down.”

He regrets everything about that movie except for one iconic line, the one his co-actress didn’t even respond to at all. He gets that line quoted to him all the time on the street. It’s an interesting conversation starter.

In an attempt to change the subject, he asks, “So what about that role you mentioned coming your way?”

Amidst biting into a cookie, Ianto gets a real deer-in-the-headlights expression. “I don’t really know much more about it,” he offers eventually, swallowing his mouthful of cookie. “They offered me an audition next week.”

“That’s my boy!” Jack says, smiling widely, and now Ianto actually glares at him. Jack continues smiling and reaches for another chip. “You’re gonna ace this.”

“Sure hope so,” replies Ianto before returning his attention to the stage.

Jack wonders what role the Doctor could be casting Ianto in. The Captain has a small, close-knit team of fellow vigilantes and con men who travel through time with him. Could the Doctor be eyeing Ianto to play the prickly medic with a heart of gold or the Captain’s bastard, even more morally ambiguous ex? Jack hopes it’s his ex. He would really like an excuse to kiss Ianto on-screen.

Or to kiss Ianto in general.

With a sigh, he settles more comfortably on the mossy stone step and fixes his eyes on the stage. He slides an arm around Ianto’s shoulders, pulling the other man into his side, and to his enormous delight, Ianto doesn’t shove him away. 

(But how Jack wishes he could hold Ianto.)

* * *

Almost two months later, and Ianto has been very, very busy. He and Jack still see each other on a regular basis, but their elaborate staged dates have become less elaborate and more “let’s just grab coffee at this corner cafe.” Yvonne has been having a conniption since the first time she noticed a decline in their trending on Twitter, and the stars - and Ianto and Jack’s busy schedules - have finally aligned for her to plan them another date.

(Sometimes, Ianto thinks that, in any alternate universe, Yvonne Hartman would have made an excellent event planner. Or the head of a top-secret organization. Whichever one sounds more intimidating. Still, he adores her and her efficiency and would not have been able to have made it this far without her.)

Most of Ianto’s time has been taken up by going for auditions for the same top-secret project Yvonne first told him about. He reads vague lines and follows vague costuming instructions and is never really introduced to anyone significant enough, and although Yvonne promises that this could be a career-changing role, he still can’t help but feel like it’s all a giant waste of time. Per instructions, he’s even told no one about any of it, not Gwen, not even Jack. They both think he’s just been going for a bunch of unlucky auditions for small telly roles.

He’s getting a bit tired of this all, and he can’t help but hope that it draws to an end sometime soon, whether that be him getting a role or a rejection. 

  
“You’re quite deep in thought,” Jack teases as they wander down a winding cobblestone path through the botanical park. Bushes nearby are bursting with vivid flowers and berries in rainbow shades, and there’s an approaching enclosure of roses whose petals look soft and velvety. “Where’d I lose you?”

“Nowhere,” Ianto replies, nudging Jack’s shoulder gently with his own. “I was just thinking about how all of Yvonne’s planned dates have been dramatic and  _ romantic  _ and a little cliched at times.”

Jack nods, expression speculative. “You’re right. We never just go mini-golfing or something.”

Ianto levels an incredulous stare at him, nose wrinkling. “...you think mini-golfing is an idea of a good date?” A beat. “That’s very high school of you, Jack Harkness, especially for a notorious playboy.” This last bit is said playfully and with a slight smile.

“Why not?” asks Jack, grinning. “It’s interactive and competitive to allow for flirting and some good, healthy banter. Plus, if your date proves to be bad at mini-golf, you can pull them against yourself and show them how to putt. Causes some excellent sexual tension.”

_ Jack Harkness describing mini-golf should  _ not  _ sound so sexy,  _ Ianto thinks.  _ Don’t picture him doing that to you. Do  _ not  _ picture him doing that to you. _

When Ianto refocuses on his “boyfriend,” Jack is just finishing up his mini-golf monologue. “...plus, anyone who can’t enjoy mini-golf and loosen up around you on a first date is not someone I want to be in a relationship with. They wouldn’t be any fun.”

Abruptly, Ianto thinks about Lisa and their first date. He’d taken her to the newest James Bond and a Chinese restaurant afterward, and although he had fun, he hadn’t been able to tell that she had not. (She has always been a bit like that. Open and friendly to everyone but closed off with her own emotions.) 

Their second attempt at a first date had gone better. Besides, they’d been happy and in love for three years before everything had started to fall apart.

Then he thinks about himself and Jack. How they have fun. How by their “first date,” they already had inside jokes and exciting banter. He always enjoys himself with Jack.

He thinks he could possibly love Jack, if he just let himself. No, Ianto  _ knows  _ he could possibly love Jack, if he just let himself.

But he can’t. Because none of this is real. It’s all a ruse. He and Jack are friends, nothing more. They could never be anything more. Ianto can’t be the fool who fell for his acting partner.

“I think the garden has a butterfly enclosure,” he suggests suddenly, and when Jack’s expression becomes puzzled, Ianto grins slightly wider. Jack follows behind nonetheless.

“You can look at the butterflies,” he says, “but I’m going to stay just a few steps behind you.”

“You’re scared of butterflies?” Ianto’s eyebrows raise high as he turns to stare at Jack.

Jack pointedly says, “You’re one to speak, Mr. Jones. You’re scared of ducks.”

“Touché.” 

* * *

“A hot air balloon?” Ianto says drily as he parks his Audi on the gravel patch next to the wide, grassy field. The balloon is large, its wicker basket the size of a small closet, and the actual balloon splays out behind the basket like a rainbow-colored phantom. “This is a bit over-the-top.”

Jack snorts suddenly, and Ianto turns to glare at him but only receives an unapologetic smirk. “ _ Over the top?  _ Get it? Because soon we’ll be flying  _ over the top  _ of the city?”

“I demand that we break up,” Ianto says, with just a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He pulls his corduroy jacket more tightly around himself, shivering against the brisk morning air, and marches towards the hot air balloon. 

Rolling his eyes, Jack follows, his smirk softening to an affectionate smile. Ianto Jones is a witty, charming, intelligent, and - most importantly -  _ gorgeous  _ man, and every time Jack lays eyes on him, he itches to make Ianto laugh, to see that wonderful smile that makes his heart feel the warmth of a thousand sunrises.

_ You’re a goner, aren’t you, Harkness? _ he can hear Gwen saying in his head, but he ignores his internal Gwen. She’s been a permanent feature for him, ever since he first met the amazing Gwen Cooper, but she’s not always right.

(Actually, she is, but it would be very convenient for Jack to ignore her and return to Ianto instead of dwelling on the fact he might be digging himself a hole by possibly catching feelings for the man he is meant to be “dating.”)

“Are you coming or not?” Ianto calls behind him, and Jack quickens his stride, his boots stomping across the wet grass. By the time he reaches Ianto’s side, only a few feet away from the balloon, Ianto is giving his muddy boots a distasteful look, his nose wrinkled up all adorably. 

Jack rips his own gaze away quickly before his thoughts go somewhere like  _ you should tweak his nose  _ or - even worse -  _ you should kiss him.  _ “So uhhh… who is going to be flying this balloon?”

Their pilot turns out to be a man named Felipe with dark eyes and dark hair and a charming Spanish accent, which Jack finds endearing but not as much as he adores Ianto’s. It takes roughly an hour for the balloon to rise high enough in the air that Ianto’s Audi becomes a little black speck amongst brown and green. There’s really only fields and small farms around them for miles; they’d driven out quite far to reach their departure destination. The sun has slowly risen higher into the sky, casting bright light everywhere and shunning the slight chill in the air.

“Breakfast, gentlemen?” Felipe asks and, to Ianto and Jack’s incredulity, manifests a picnic basket full of fresh fruit, champagne and orange juice for mimosas, and waffles with plenty of syrup.

Despite their joking about how over-the-top she can be, Yvonne Hartman is a queen of details, and Jack, whose stomach had been quietly rumbling ever since Ianto picked him up from his apartment, could marry her. If Ianto didn’t object, that is.

They feast like kings, floating high in the sky. Jack sips his mimosa as the city finally drifts into view, and he spots the first of the skyscrapers. The cars and people below them resemble ants, stuck in the beginnings of the morning traffic rush, shuffling to work or school. Jack doesn’t envy them.

“This is beautiful,” Ianto says quietly, and when Jack glances over to him, his eyes are wide with awe, cheeks bright and flushed. A stray curl has swept above his forehead. Before Jack can stop himself, his fingers are automatically reaching over to smooth the curl back, carding his fingers lightly through Ianto’s hair. Ianto’s eyes briefly flicker shut. Jack wants to dig his fingers in further and really  _ muss  _ the curls, but his brain catches up to him, and he yanks his hand back. 

He and Ianto smile awkwardly at each other, Jack trembling with poorly-contained, barely-hidden yearning. He feels a schoolboy again, fumbling and nervous before his crush.

“Yeah, it is beautiful,” Jack agrees and manages not to blurt out  _ You’re beautiful.  _ That’s not necessarily a purely platonic thing to say to your friend. 

There is a sudden chime, and both men flinch in surprise, although Felipe barely blinks. Ianto digs a hand into his pocket and retrieves his phone, staring at it as if he’s never seen it before.

“Your phone has signal...all the way up here?” Jack asks, dumbfounded.

“I don’t….” Ianto’s already thumbing in his password. “It’s from Yvonne…  _ shit. _ ” His eyes are as large as quarters, surprise and joy etched on every feature. “ _ I got the role! _ ”

Jack’s mind is processing this news as fast as a lightning strike as his lips stretch into a wide grin. “You…  _ holy shit. Holy shit! _ ” He inhales sharply. 

“I would be playing the Time Agent!” Ianto says excitedly, eyes bright and happy. “In your movie!”

The Time Agent! The seemingly no-nonsense but actually witty and charming and devious time traveller assigned to chase after the Captain and his team. The antagonist to Jack’s protagonist. It’s the perfect role for Ianto!

Still stunned, Jack is taken aback but not displeased in the least when Ianto steps forward, watched by a curious Felipe, and presses their lips together. His mouth is soft and warm as it moves against Jack’s, and Jack can feel a bit of himself melt as he places gentle hands on Ianto’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Ianto is solid and  _ right here,  _ and he’s  _ kissing  _ Jack, and it’s  _ wonderful and everything Jack has imagined. _

When they part, Jack rests his forehead against Ianto’s as they pant. He feels content and is not necessarily thinking when he says, “I’m so proud of you! I knew you’d get the role. It was just a matter of the Doctor seeing how talented you are.”

His eyes are shut so he doesn’t see the sudden horror spread across Ianto’s face, but he does feel the abrupt lack of presence and warmth as Ianto steps back. His eyes flutter open, and he watches the other man in bewilderment, missing his touch.

“What do you mean,  _ you knew? _ ” asks Ianto, quietly, and there’s an odd glint to his eyes that wasn’t there before. Watching with wide eyes, Jack wisely keeps his mouth shut. “Tell me what you meant, Jack.  _ Tell me. _ ”

After a few minutes of hesitation, Felipe hovering awkwardly in the background, Jack eventually nods. His voice is hoarse when he speaks, so he coughs several times to clear his throat, speaking slowly. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I knew. We all did. Gwen, Yvonne, and I.” His heart is lodged up in his throat, and he feels ill. “The Doctor told me. He wanted to make sure I didn’t mind.” A beat. “Which I don’t! I’m so happy for you; this is-”

“Stop it, Jack,” Ianto says, and his words are cold and unfamiliar. Jack stops rambling, eyes wide, nearly biting his tongue off in his haste to become quiet. Ianto sighs, scrubbing his forehead with his hand. “I can’t believe…” He turns around, beginning to pace the short length of the basket.

“Ianto,” Jack says, only slightly pleadingly. “This is good, isn’t it?”

Ianto pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes briefly squeezing shut, as he murmurs something beneath his breath. Then he focuses his full attention on Jack, and Jack nearly stumbles backward at the intensity he finds there. “No, Jack,” he replies through gritted teeth. “This is not good. This is the exact  _ worst-case scenario. _ ” His shoulders slump. “I won’t know now. I will never know why I got this role, not when  _ you’re  _ the main lead of this movie.” He says it so venomously that Jack flinches. 

“Ianto,” tries Jack again. “Ianto, please. The Doctor obviously knows how talented you are. He even said so to me, personally.”

“Because you’re his old friend,” Ianto hisses back, and Jack can see just how much he’s straining to keep the grip on his temper. Poor Felipe is flattened against the basket, trying to edge out of the picture; Jack pities him very much right now. “You’re his old friend and now the star of his movie, and I am  _ dating you. _ ”

Jack’s starting to get it, he thinks, but that’s just how the industry works. You always need an “in.” The Doctor was Jack’s. Why can’t Jack be Ianto’s? He wouldn’t mind; he’d be proud to. The world deserves to see Ianto’s talent and brilliance on a movie screen. 

But he has a feeling that saying so will only draw more of Ianto’s ire, so he tries for calming. 

“Alright,” he says. “I think I get it. But still, you got the role. Isn’t that what matters?”

“This feels nepotistic,” replies Ianto dismissively, expression hard. There’s none of the mirth or excitement in his eyes that there’d been just moments previous, and Jack’s heart  _ aches  _ because he’s the reason Ianto’s gone so cold and distant. “It feels unearned.” 

“Are you going to refuse the role?” Jack asks, voice soft, dreading the potential response.

“No,” Ianto tells him. “I’m not. Not after I’ve worked so hard for it. But…” He blinks. “I think that  _ this, _ ” - and he gestures between them - “is going to have to come to an end.”

“You can’t just…” pleads Jack futilely, but Ianto has turned his back on him and is pressing against the far end of the basket, just like Felipe. “ _ Ianto. _ ”

Jack turns around and peers back over the edge of the basket, shoulders slumped. He feels very,  _ very  _ defeated, but really, there’s only one thought left in his empty, stupid brain.

_ Ianto just broke up with him, and they were never really dating to begin with.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr [here](http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/) or on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik). I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction. 
> 
> And if you have any future ideas for this verse or something you'd like to see, drop it in the comments!
> 
> No, I quite mean it. I'm trying to plot the rest of this verse ahahahahha. Like literally, anything goes.


End file.
